A response

My friend over at Bull-headed follower of a Bull God wrote an entry about how they wish paganism showed the little things we all do to show devotion and not just the flowery worded prayers and actions. Well JoyousMadness you are getting your response as a post to my blog.

I chose to respond to them in this way since they are right, there are not enough blog posts and things about how we remind ourselves of our Gods and Spirits throughout our regular everyday lives.

So as some may know and others not, my altar is in my bedroom. It is there due to space constraints and living with parents. However it is there. This actually gives me a really good chance to check on it though. Every morning I have to go past the altar to leave the room and every morning I look into the well. Not to do anything divination based. Not to do anything knowledge based. No, to check to see if the thing is full. My house is very dry due to having the air conditioning or heat on all the time and as such my well dries out very quickly. I’ve actually put stones at the bottom of it to hold some of the moisture in case I don’t notice because I’m in a rush one day.

I then tend to look at the ancestor candle which lives directly behind the well and then up to the ancestor shrine. Depending on the day this makes me either almost cry or smile. Cry for the fact I have lost friends, neighbours and relatives. Or smile for the fact had these awesome people and pets not been in my life I wouldn’t be the person I am today (thanks guys <3 ).

Once I’ve left my room for the day my day is much more mundane except for one thing that I do approximately 75% of the time: open the curtains. This is when I do my morning prayer if Mum hasn’t opened them first. It’s nothing fancy, typically whatever strikes me at the time, and is typically dependant on the light levels. If the sun is already up at full strength it’s my general prayer, if it is still coming up it tends to be something to Ushas and Agni (yes I’m a Celt (primarily), but they play an important role for me, I don’t question it).

Typically throughout the day I don’t end up back in my room. The one thing that does make me remember my patrons is when the crows begin to caw. My murder of crows (it’s gone from 3 to 9 of the beauties) remind me of The Morrigu and their influence. How they wish me to be strong through the pain when I need to be and fight for what I believe is right. Sometimes they caw at just the right moment. Other times they caw when they see me because they want food. My act of feeding them comes with no prayers but an honoring of The Morrigu just the same as they are one of Their forms.

Closer to Samhain I do things like walk through cemeteries to remember the ancestors and leave flowers for some of those who would not have descendants (children who died in the early 1900’s and even earlier in the 1800’s are typically where I get drawn) to do so. That typically doesn’t come with prayers just respect. I am thinking of getting a large enough sketchpad to do rubbings of the graves that are typical for me to go to. There may be something more with those ones…

This is my typical day though. It is the little things that matter. What are the little things you do? Link back to JoyousMaiden if you post them <3

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Conspicuous Consumption

When who you are is thoroughly caught up with what you own- with the things you display on your body or in your home- conspicuous consumption becomes central to the cultivation of a self and to structures of social value and distinction.
-Gay Hawkins

Our society is focused on stuff. A disposable society where buying something new is typically cheaper than fixing it. Have you ever taken your computer in to have the motherboard replaced, or a laptop screen repaired? Most of the time it is cheaper to buy a new laptop that is better than the one you currently own. Our focus on the best things for the money we spend is conspicuous consumption. Having the brightest or more expensive thing is how our society views wealth. Not in the terms of love, compassion, health, family, but in things.

These things are costing our planet greatly. Arthur H.Purcell termed the phrase wasteberg to allow the human mind to perceive how much waste actually goes into things as the percentages are the same. In an iceberg, you see 5% with the other 95% being below the surface, same with the wasteberg. With the wasteberg you see 5% of the garbage with 95% going into the processing and manufacturing of the item. For example, if you have 1 pound of things in your home, say a filing box, 19 pounds of manufacturing waste went into processing that filing box. All that waste is ending up in our landfills and filling our planet.

The typical response within society to “green” topics is to recycle everything. By recycling, you take it out of the landfill and put it into other products. However, there is still that wasteberg concept to take into consideration with the manufacturing waste that went into it in the first place. The better thing to do in this situation is to reduce.

Reducing the things that we use, using them till they are broken, fixing them and then continuing to use them. This is how we can reduce the strain on our planet. Think of all those early adopters to technology. Think of all the iphones that have been carelessly thrown out because the newest version came out. This is not the way that we protect our planet. Choosing items that are part recycled materials is one thing, but not using as much of the ingredient or item is another.

Think before printing off that email. Think before buying those veggies on the styrofoam plate wrapped in celo. Think before shipping something and how many packing peanuts is enough vs overkill, or can I reuse the newspaper that I got this week. Think before buying unnecessary items.

Just Think.

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Starling named Howard

At the end of June a baby starling fell from its nest not too far from my home. My neighbour Laura, a local animal activist found him.

Her original thought “aww poor thing” then it was “wait it looks too alive” and gently poked him, he started flailing. She picked him up and brought him home and kept him overnight. The next morning a call went out on facebook to her local animal people to take this little one to a local animal sanctuary so he would actually have a shot at life. The call, although she forgot to tag me, came up in my newsfeed. I responded and within 20 min I had Howard’s bucket in my car on the way to the shelter.

The little peeps that came out of him for the hour ride were adorable. I chose not to have the AC or the radio on to ensure I didn’t chill him and that I could listen for if he was having any issues. The drive was very pretty, though I wasn’t fully paying attention to my surroundings, it was more, cars on the road, watching for animals to run onto the road, and is the bird still peeping. The drive back, a little less stressful.

However, when I was up at the animal sanctuary, after Howard had been checked in, as I was getting ready to leave, 3 crows swooped in around me. Two landed on my car, and one up in the tree I was parked under. The one on the trunk cawing away at me. So of course, it being me, I was standing there having a conversation with it. The girl tried to shoo the crow off my car, however that only partially worked to get me on the road, as the crow then decided that my shoulder was a good place to sit and caw at me. Did you know a crow cawing on your shoulder is very loud in your ear?

Once I got the crow off of my shoulder, and they allowed me to try to leave, I had to then make sure I didn’t hit the sanctuary’s dog. The poor little thing is deaf, very cute, but deaf. One of the other ladies came and got him away from my car. And then: the crow landed on my other arm! Silly crow.

So another conversation was had. This time me telling it I had to go feed my crows so it had to get off my arm. Once I did that off it flew, into the tree, and let me leave.

I didn’t lie to the crow, I fed mine as soon as I got home.

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Into the Rabbit Hole

Vesta and I had had another day planned, to see if I could take more (she read my last trance post and agreed) it just happened to coincide with other trance work I had planned on doing.

However I didn’t follow the one rule of trancework: turn off the damn phone!

So as I was dropping, the phone rang. I turned off the ringer, giggled with Vesta since the phone had startled her and then we went back to it. The next needle sunk me down farther than I had been when the phone rang.

I walked around, down through tunnels that looked like over passes and car tunnels covered in graffiti.

At some point while walking I knew my physical body was as far as it wanted to go and I popped out just enough to ask Vesta to let me float where I was. I dropped back down easily.

As I walked a melancholy tune played. I’m not sure what exactly it was though. My ever present guide by my side, hand in mine as the keys to my trance were in my other.

We finally approached a door and I brought out the key that I was using for this endeavour and unlocked the door. My guide smiled and disappeared into the room. When I walked in, the place, it was our place, mine and his. Our room his room, the rest of the house set up similar to my own but with a touch of being Bilbo Baggins’s home.

Herbs drying at the windows, a roaring fire in the hearth, bookshelves everywhere, guitars on the walls between shelves, sheets of music strewn across tables. It was truly our home. I had yet to find where he and I could just be, where now that he could speak to me once more that we could sit and chat and have him relay all the knowledge he had of the other world. Have him relay the knowledge he’s been wanting to relay for so many years when he could not speak to me.

He kissed me and then I was back. No flowery return, no nothing of the sort. My guide’s normal “go get back in your body you’ve been here long enough” shove.

I asked Vesta to remove the needles.

I had taken 8 more than last time. I have been taking these in buttons vs straight across so the middle gets a little more sensitive than if they are all going one way. I kinda like it like that though.

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As the rain falls

Rain falls
Hydrates the ground
feeds the plants
quenches thirsts

Animals bathe
in the drops as they fall
in the puddles and streams
while the drops they do fall

thirsts are quenched
plants are fed
the ground is hydrated
As the rain falls

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Dawn becomes Day

With the light she does awaken us,
Red horses draw her near,
From the east she rides into our lives,
Darkness hides in fear,
Uṣas, the dawn, the bringer of day,
You who draw Agni near,
Light our lives, our hearts, our minds
And turn the darkest nights to day.

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Muse’s return

From out of the darkness,
From out of the shadows,
From out of the pain,
She returns

I have noticed something, about myself, about my muse. She does not like to deal with me unless my body can handle the influx of ideas, of yearnings. When my vitamin D is at it’s highest, She is at her loudest. I don’t know the name for the She, it is just She.

She fuels the ideas within my brain. Never shutting it off for a moment. Always thinking at the speed of light. Slowing only to let me write it down. Each piece is given. A spark, a flame. I choose what is fueled or allowed to burn out.

Lately, however, Her ideas have been awesome. Workshops and classes, and things to be done. She is pushing me somewhere. Where I don’t know. However I’m liking it so far, may it continue on.

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